Lessons
by scully-hearts-roslin
Summary: This story takes place on New Caprica before the Cylons invaded the planet, written upon request after "Unfinished Business" in s3.


**Disclaimer:** BSG is not mine (although I'd make Laura sooo happy *huggles her close*). This story takes place on New Caprica before the Cylons invaded the planet, written upon request after "Unfinished Business". **Pairing:** A/R of course (helloo, my name is Scully...) **Setting:** s3, New Caprica

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**Lessons**

Laura observed the children entering the tent. Small children, older ones, teenagers. They sneaked inside, uncertain of where to sit or what to do. No one was fighting, no one was playing rough. Silence ruled among them – an eerie moment. In all her years of tutoring and teaching, she had never experienced an awkward moment like this with children, maybe not scared, but uncomfortable and intimidated. A lot of work was lying ahead of her, she was sure of that right now.

She gathered the few utensils she had been able to collect from ships and individuals, and got up from behind a table she had made her provisional desk. Walking towards the children, she smiled at them and was glad to find the smaller kids answering her with giggles and waves. Putting a pencil and some paper in front of every child, Laura made her way through the comparatively crowded room and brushed some heads and shoulders in that reassuring way of hers. She stopped when she felt the shaking shoulders of a little girl, and knelt down in front of her.

"What is it, honey? Are you cold?" Her voice was low and soothing.

The girl shook her head.

"Are you scared?"

A reluctant nod.

"What are you scared of?" Laura gave her a warm smile but the girl just stared at her. "What is your name?"

A shy whisper. "Isabelle."

"That's a beautiful name," Laura placed her hand on the child's arm. "Is this your first day of school?"

Another shaken head.

"Are you afraid of the other children?" Laura whispered while looking around.

"No." The answer was still hesitant.

"Is it me then?" Laura mocked her and almost lost her composure when the girl nodded. "Why?" She fought to keep her voice steady.

A bigger girl, approximately 8 years old, took Isabelle's hands and whispered, "Our parents said you airlock people you don't like." She lowered her head. "And you don't want us on this planet."

Laura fondled Isabelle's shoulder before she got up and shot Tory a desperate look.

"Alright, arms up – who else was afraid to come to school today?" Her voice was as soft as possible.

Forcing herself to not allow the gulp that formed in her throat to affect her reaction, she counted the shyly risen hands. Five.

"Okay," she mumbled to herself and walked back to Isabelle and her sister. "I will not use an airlock against any of you. I promise you that." Laura held up her hand to vow and smiled. "What your parents were telling you concerned decisions I had to make as the President of the Colonies. I am your teacher now, that'll be different."

An uproar of the Quorum of Twelve was less intimidating than the combined front of skepticism and silence from the lot of kids surrounding her.

"I airlocked Cylons, never children." She stopped her voice from breaking. "Do you know why?"

"Because they destroyed our homes?" Isabelle asked carefully.

"Because they want to kill us?" A little boy added.

Laura nodded. "Yes. And now we are safe from them, on this planet. For this moment. So we don't need airlocks or fear anymore. And we'll try to make this planet our home." She looked around. "Alright?"

Approving nods.

"Good. And as your teacher, I'm on your side. I am here, with you, on this planet, am here for you. So whatever worries you, whatever frightens you, please come to me and ask for help. I will be here, and so will Miss Foster here. Okay?"

More nodding and Laura smiled.

She turned to Isabelle and winked at her before she resumed handing out the pencils and paper when a small boy pulled at her sleeves. "You, Miss." Laura raised her eyebrows but smiled. "Yes?"

"Other Miss scares me," the boy whispered in her ear and Laura laughed.

"I was scared of her, too," she answered him in a whisper while handing him his starter package, "but I promise she won't bite."

When every child had paper and pencils and Tory had handed out some books, Laura smirked at her in an amused way.

"What?" Tory asked with a mild frown.

"Nothing," Laura's smirk widened and she wrote her name on the board. "Alright, kids. My name is Miss Roslin. Rule number one, never hesitate to ask. Rule number two, if you don't understand anything or want to say something, just raise your hand."

She clapped her hands and opened her own books. "Okay, let's see what you know about Colonial history."

It was late in the afternoon when Laura closed her books again and saw her last student off. It had been a good idea to separate the smaller children from the teenagers, and she was glad to have changes in her own schedule.

She was glad to have Maya around to help her a little, and she found herself wondering how Billy might have enjoyed this new kind of job. Tory obviously didn't enjoy being around kids too much. She smiled.

"We should call it a day, Tory. It's getting dark outside already and you look tired."

"I am fine, Madam..." An apologetic smile. Tory couldn't help but keep addressing her with a title that still felt to be rightfully hers.

"Go home." Laura almost forced her to go with a knowing and sad smile.

"You enjoy this work, don't you?" Tory asker her while getting up and met her boss' nod with understanding. "I think they like you."

"I really hope they do." Laura Roslin's voice made clear that she didn't feel like discussing the bumpy start into the day.

"Good evening then, ma'am." The former presidential aide excused herself. "See you tomorrow." And a nod and a friendly wave was all she got as a reply.

The days started to fly by. The children grew accustomed to her, and what was even more important, Laura rediscovered the teacher in herself. She had felt comfortable being surrounded by children again, but she had feared their questions if she was perfectly honest with herself. She now knew there was no need for that. Laura was astonished to find _her_ kids to be so thirsty for knowledge. After a while she understood that it was an escape for them, a welcomed change from gray and cloudy days, from tents and harsh rules.

She enjoyed the interaction with the little ones as much as the discussions with the decreasing number of teenagers she loved to teach so much. It hurt to see how they weren't given the opportunity to learn because their work force was needed to help build this society.

It was around those times that she started to talk to Tory about worsening conditions, and had a drink with Colonel Tigh whose wife seemed to prefer the fresh air to narrow military quarters. She even sat down with Chief Tyrol once when he paid a visit to New Caprica to enjoy his leave with his newly wed wife. Voices were optimistic in the beginning, but those people who were able to look beyond the first moments of joy were skeptical and wary of the things to come.

As President, she had expressed how she felt in her gut that it was wrong to settle on this planet. It felt like something from another lifetime now. And as a teacher Laura was trying to change things as best as she could, knowing that she wouldn't be able to change their destiny if she hadn't been able to change it as the woman in charge.

When Laura reached her tent after another long day, she was glad that it was in a moderate distance to her school. She didn't have to walk too far and it wasn't too close. She loved to walk a little after work, she wouldn't dare to take off to the woods after dark. Conditions were hard, and she was well aware of certain dangers she could easily find herself in as a single woman. Approaching her tent, she stopped in a safe distance when she saw a person lurking around her home. She was careful about walking closer until she recognized his profile and stature. The Admiral. _Bill_. She smiled.

"Bored already with me not giving you orders anymore?" Her tone was more cynical than she had intended it to be. Her face forming an unspoken excuse.

He laughed. "I am actually. Baltar ignores the military now as best as he can."

"What a surprise," she opened her tent and invited him in. "Gaius Baltar turns out to detest the military and to avoid uncomfortable decisions. Who would've thought. Huh!" Her laugh was almost dirty.

"You look good for turning cynical." He met her mood with calmness, sleepiness reflected in his eyes.

"Oh well, thank you, Admiral." She sat down on the pillows on her floor and asked him to join her. Adama hesitated for a moment but decided to give it a chance and rested next to her.

"So, you haven't overcome the feeling of defeat yet?" He almost mocked her to lighten the moment.

"At least you didn't ask if I've become bitter yet." Another laugh. "Do you want something to eat or drink? I think I have some algae whatever-it-is snack around here from lunch."

"I never saw you eat much back on Colonial One." A melancholy expression dominated his gaze.

"I've not grown accustomed to this kind of _food_ down here, so some things haven't changed at least." Laura grabbed a glass and poured herself a drink, taking a sip and passing it on to Bill. "Sorry for the lack of dishes, I was categorized as a single. I don't get much."

"Well, you are a single, are you not?" His question was less teasing than he had planned.

"Oh yes, _sir_. But a second glass would've been nice in case this spinster turns goofy and breaks the only glass she was granted to have." Her annoyance rose while talking to him, and she apologized immediately. "I'm sorry, Bill. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"Life is tough." His answer was a question and a remark at the same time, and her nod did both confirm his worries and increase them.

"Life's been better." A sigh. "Don't get me wrong, Bill. There are days when I'm happy that I don't have to shoulder it anymore. The decisions, the Cylons, the Quorum. I can't say that I miss it. But when I see how Gaius Baltar is wrecking what we tried to hold together, when I see how he lives on Colonial One without caring how his people are suffering... It makes me angry, Bill. I sometimes want to take the hungriest of those I see to face him. I want to take the workers to his office and make them see that he has his own home renovated and beautified while the rest of us are trying to fight the rain from soaking our tents. I want to take half of the children I started to teach to get half of what he puts aside for his harem of wanna-be assistants, and I just want one moment alone with the _President_ to ask him how he sleeps at night." She didn't cry, she didn't raise her voice – her anger was evident in its roughness and controlled calmness.

"There isn't much I can do," Bill put his hands onto hers.

"People are too weak to fight now after months and months of running from the Cylons, Bill. I don't even blame them. They suffered in space, they suffer here. What's the difference really for them? I was asked that. _What's the difference_?" A pause. "Freedoms I was once accused of cutting or taking away have not been given back. More liberties have been taken away from us and the Quorum of Twelve functions in name only. This society is stumbling into disaster, Bill. Baltar is not strong enough to hold it together or to defend what the founders of the Colonies once fought for."

Adama cleared his throat. "You cannot ask me to perform a military coup."

"I'm not asking you to do that, Bill. I'm just asking you to be careful." A tired smile and a moment of silence.

"I should be going now. It's getting late." He helped her up when he was standing and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Tell me if you need anything. And take care of yourself."

She nodded.

"And if you are growing tired of this planet or tent, there are always quarters for Laura Roslin on Galactica. President or not."

"Thank you, Bill." And by the look on her face he knew that she wouldn't accept his offer.

A week passed until she got to see a glimpse of him again in a bar along with Tigh. Then two weeks and a month before Groundbreaking Day.

It felt good to see him. It was like coming home. And although her worries were still fresh, she had grown accustomed to the harsh realities of New Caprica like she had gotten used to life after the apocalypse. Her work as a teacher helped her through most of her days, and the weed she had discovered by the stream in the mountains helped her through others. Although they lacked so many things, a feeling of camaraderie had begun to grow. She felt closer to Tory and to doctor Cottle, even to the Tighs from time to time – and she was glad to see Maya around with her little child every day.

When she shared her stash with Bill, they stripped off the last remains of Admiral and President, and they embraced the comfortable closeness they felt throughout the night. When he sang to her, she knew that he had lost all hesitation around her – and although she knew that she wouldn't have thought his singing to be nearly as funny on a night without a smoke, she also didn't want to trade that moment for anything.

They lay in each other's arms for what felt like ages – the world had slowed down around them, her tent right behind those sandbags that felt like stones against their backs after a while. She struggled to get up and missed his warmth immediately – and his touch. So she woke him with a tender kiss, realizing that he had just spaced out. They crawled inside and she started to look for blankets for him to keep warm. Then his arms pulled her back onto the pillows in the middle of her tent and he whispered against her skin. "You are so beautiful, do you know that?" It felt unreal.

She giggled in response, her trip wearing down a little until he pulled her into a tender kiss that seemed to last forever. Unable to control her physical response, Laura almost observed herself when she undressed for him – her movements slow, his eyes caressing her to a state of arousal she had only known in moments of toasted ecstasy.

She later wondered how long they had made love – it had probably just been minutes but it felt like hours. Desire building up, overwhelming her, enveloping her senses and opening a soul to her that was Bill Adama.

His arms around her, his hands exploring her every inch, his loving words like poems in her ears, his tenderness driving her over the edge before they even became one. A moan melted with a gasp, a giggle and a grunt – they conducted their own theme for the night. His name fell from her lips when he found his release, her own climax merging with her smoke-induced happiness.

They drifted off to sleep, blankets somehow finding their way to cover them, keeping them warm until they woke early the next morning. Still affected by the amount of weed they had consumed, they got up and dressed, Bill getting the munchies now that he was awake. Laura, not caring that she put on her clothes from the night before, agreed to join him on his quest for food and was tickled to find her Admiral a little forgetful with events before their own Groundbreaking Day.

There was for a short moment of doubt that had Laura concerned about his reaction to her after that night. Her worries were blown away when he came to see her two days later. Not fully knowing what he had dreamed about doing or had really done, he behaved natural with her and allowed himself the luxury of kissing and fondling her.

It was a slow pace they decided to take – they didn't feel rushed. She never came to Galactica, and they only spent time together on the planet. It was like getting away from it all – from their past, their worries and the grim realities of New Caprica.

Walking in the woods, sitting by what he called her stream, swimming in the far away lake – it all felt like vacation from the respectable people they continued to be for the grounded fleet. They continued to smoke a little from time to time; they enjoyed more nights on sandbags and some slow kisses. They never made love when he knew he had to head back to Galactica the same night – he didn't want to leave her alone like that or to feel lonely (which was worse). He loved to spend the night with her, snuggled up, whispering some vows against each other's skin and drifting off to sleep together. He was always torn in the morning when he had to leave and Laura shared his feeling of emptiness when he was gone.

She knew that she was in love when he wasn't able to come see her for the entirety of a week. She dragged herself along and buried her sadness in work. When he finally returned, she was tempted to pick him up from the landing area but she didn't trust herself enough to just smile at him and take off. When they met in her tent, she spent hours in his arms. Her dreams of making passionate love to him blown away by the tenderness of his smile and her own sleepiness. No weed, but a bottle of Ambrosia and a starry night. The intensity of his touch electrified her and the slowness of loving him was so beyond any fast frak. She was happy.

The surprise came the next morning when he didn't have to leave. They spent the day in her tent, talking, sleeping and just being one.

When a new week was breaking, he had to go – and however much her heart was aching to see him off, she was glowing with joy.

Doctor Cottle mocked her when she got her physical, and even Tory dropped a remark or two. She didn't care. With all the roughness around her and the hard times, Laura cherished every moment of satisfaction.

It was a morning, busy as usual, his visit overdue, when Laura heard the Cylon raiders and saw the Centurions invade their streets. A tear ran down her cheek because she had known this day would come, and another one because she knew that if Bill had not yet died, he had jumped away with his men. She even wondered if she would ever see him again. But instead of dwelling in her grief, she swallowed the wave of nausea that threatened to hit her and bit down the starting pain. Another struggle, another reality, another change – she was strong enough to survive for what she now knew was a shared life. Stubbornness took over and she allowed herself a sparkle of hope: he had made it and would come back – if not for anything else but them.

**The End**


End file.
